Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
by rafiela
Summary: She isn't someone who spends endless nights at a bar, getting hit on by probably the entire gender spectrum. She isn't the type to revel in catcalls and heads whipping in her direction but tonight she craves it. Because in the last month, her girlfriend practically put her in the back burner. And boy did it burn. Reagan-centric because that girl is hot! Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First Reamy Fanfiction *happy dance* This isn't what I was planning on when I started this but here you go. None of my works are beta-ed so I apologize in advance for the mistakes. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are always welcome!**

* * *

They say it's the things that we love most that destroy us.

Maybe, for Reagan, it already has.

Because this isn't her.

She isn't someone who spends endless nights at a bar, getting hit on by probably the entire gender spectrum.

Granted, it does happen from time to time, but she doesn't smile, or tuck loose hair strands behind her ear. She doesn't show a hint of receptiveness toward these indecent advances.

She doesn't tip her head back to let people pour drinks down her mouth, the liquid burning her throat as stubborn droplets trail down her exposed neck.

She basks in the stolen glances and the lingering looks she gets as she climbs up her DJ tower, smiling back at a dark-haired girl who's been eyeing her all night.

She isn't the type to revel in catcalls and heads whipping in her direction but tonight she craves it.

Because in the last month, her girlfriend practically put her in the back burner.

And boy did it burn.

* * *

A few weeks ago, between having to beg her girlfriend to at least have lunch with her and driving close to speed limit when she finally (finally) says she's free to hang, only to watch her and Karma share inside jokes as they people- watched in their free period, something shifted.

Maybe it was going several days straight without hearing from her and then finding her and Karma's faces on instagram so often, you'd think they lived together.

Maybe it was the feeling of rejection every time she would have to be okay with the younger girl passing up on dinner dates because _something happened with Karma. _And more importantly, finding that Amy had no idea what was wrong with that statement.

Or maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion for having to try so hard and not being given a chance, of crippling abandonment.

Especially because it was almost always Karma.

(Who are we kidding. It's always going to be karma.)

She learned that night that her name was Mia: french, sassy, _I don't give a shit, _Mia.

Mia who's backpacking across whatever piece of land she finds.

The same Mia who's been ogling her from where she stood on the dance floor, tipping back shot after shot of different colors and temperatures.

The same Mia who, after a few nights, clambered up her tower and offered her a shot of her own.

She's taken aback by her boldness and the accompanying disarming smirk. A confidence that can only come from someone who knows she can probably have anyone in the club.

The black haired girl offers her the glass with a knowing grin and slight tip of her head.

"I can't drink. I'm working," she shouts over the blaring bass.

"Later, then?," the other girl answers, slurring either from the alcohol buzz or her accent.

Reagan laughs, brushing it off with a shake of her head.

When she heads to her car for her phone charger, she finds her outside smoking a cigarette, leaning on the wall of the service door.

They watch each other as Reagan makes her way back from the parking lot and she surprises herself when she sticks her arm out for a shake.

"Reagan." She tells herself she's just being nice, making friends, no harm, no foul.

The other girl climbs back up with her to the tower, picks up the headphones she offers and smiles at her for the rest of the night.

After a few songs, a group of accented europeans wave her down.

She grabs Reagan's phone on the table and types her number, slipping it into the pocket of the DJs tight leather jeans.

A gasp almost escapes her mouth when she feels her press an open mouthed kiss on the her cheek, whispering _Call me. _

She tells herself that the girl's just being friendly, just bring french, just drunk.

That night as she settles in bed, finding another picture of Amy and Karma on her feed, she tells herself she can be friendly, too.

* * *

She chances upon her messages with Amy, a seemingly endless litany of her asking the blonde to hang out peppered by the occasional _Can't go. Have to study, _or _Can't tonight. Sorry._

She used to think the blond was trying, at the very least, that she was just really busy with school (not with Karma, no.) She used to try to convince herself that when the exam week is over, she'll finally get her girlfriend back.

_Surprise, surprise. _She didn't.

So that night she types out a smiley face and hits send and is surprised when she realizes it's nearing 4am when they stop talking, agreeing to meet tomorrow at another party she's DJing for.

That night, as she closes her eyes, it's no longer blonde hair she sees, but black; it's no longer Amy's cadence and sunshine. That night, it's Mia's accent and Mia's thick, sultry voice.

And then, before she knows it, it isn't just that night anymore.

* * *

She lets her forget.

That's what Mia is to Reagan.

She knows it's wrong and that she's being unfair but that's what it is.

She drives the girl around, wasting hours away on a patch of grass watching the sunrise after a gig or mixing drinks for her friends' pre-game.

She likes it, having someone who craves her attention, who actually gives her the time of day (night, mostly).

As they lounge around her apartment, one lazy afternoon, their heads sharing a cream-colored pillow, it's Mia who addresses the elephant in the room

"You know I like you, right?," she says, lifting head up and shifting to her stomach, eyes bare with the kind of honesty that's disengaging, vulnerable.

"You know I have a girlfriend, right?," she says, mustering as much finality in her tone as she can, wishing the other girl couldn't detect the uncertainty she's denying.

She hoped she could live in this bubble, where she has Mia who talks to her and brings her lunch and holds her hand; where she can keep Amy, still.

But, more than anything, she knows she's being selfish, holding on to more than she can have, hiding behind road trips and stolen glances to mask the gnawing emptiness and hurt.

"You don't deserve her, Reagan."

She knows this, too, but for some reason she's can't seem to let herself give up, even though, clearly, Amy's barely even trying.

Mia's hands are suddenly pulling her up, asking her to the same sitting position.

"You don't deserve sleepless nights thinking about whether or not you're still together. You don't deserve to spend Friday nights alone asking yourself if you did something. You shouldn't have to feel like you're not enough."

The caucasian girl wraps her hands around Reagans, rubbing funny shapes on her knuckles.

"A girl like you needs to understand that you never have to wait for anyone, that you deserve all the hand holding and spooning. all the breakfasts in bed and midnight snacks across town."

Mia shifts, sitting with her knees folded under her so her eyes are level with Reagan's.

"I know you know this. You deserve someone who doesn't make you forget what you deserve, who reminds you everyday that you are loved and wanted. That's what you deserve."

She feels her palm on the rise of her cheek, thumb wiping away a stubborn tear.

"I'm here Reagan, and I'm willing to wait for you to realize that."

She leans her forehead on the DJs, eyes dropping to a close.

And for a while, Reagan forgets about Amy.

* * *

She wakes up to a feather light kiss on her neck, the warmth behind her dissipating.

Even with her eyes closed, she knows what this is, what it could be - an end to a guilty reprieve or a beginning of something potentially great.

When she hears the door close, she releases a sigh, not willing to choose just yet.

* * *

In the end, it's Amy that comes, occupying the space that's been Mia's in the last several days.

Hugging her from behind, she plants her lips on the base of her neck whispering _I missed you._

A chuckle escapes her, unable to hold in the sarcasm.

It all comes back to her now, the pain, and it floods her chest in waves that are threatening to drown her.

"I was right here, Amy."

Her words are a splash of ice cold water, dimming the warmth off her. She can't remember Reagan ever calling her Amy, not even when she had to meet her parents, or when she introduced her to her friends. She was always _shrimps _or _shrimp girl _or _my girlfriend. _

She's never heard her name said with so much animosity.

Reagan hops out of the bed leaving the blonde dumbfounded. She makes her way to the kitchen without a word, not even bothering to hide her distaste.

"Reagan" she calls out, following the older girl out of the room.

"What's.."

"Don't even finish that fucking sentence, Amy."

When the brunette turns around to face her, tears are streaming steadily down her face, marring her make up.

She takes a deep breath and swipes angrily at the betrayal of her eyes.

"Do not dare ask me what's wrong because if you can honestly tell me that not talking to your girlfriend for a week straight, not replying to her texts for days, not seeing her at all; if you can fucking tell me right now you don't think there's anything wrong with that.." she can't bring herself to finish the sentence because she's not sure she's ready to say the words.

"You know I had exams, right? I was busy…" she takes a step forward, hands reaching out for Reagan's.

"Oh fuck you." Reagan swats her hands away, taking a step back.

"I have four jobs. Amy. But I walked you home and picked you up and brought you fucking donuts!"

She walks away then, feeling suffocated with the diminishing space between them. She flops down the couch intending to end the growing fight.

But she makes the mistake of picking up her phone and finding Mia's messages, reminding her of the way she made her feel: wanted.

The DJ swipes angrily at her screen, bringing up their conversation.

She jumps to her feet and faces Amy.

"You know how many messages you sent me in the last week?"

Amy has never seen Reagan angry. Amy's Reagan was always so sweet and sexy and soft. She was fiercely protective and undeniably strong.

But never angry.

"The only message I got from you in the last week says you can't meet me in the parking lot of _your _school because Karma…"

"I can't even bring myself to care what's happened to Karma this time. You care for her more than enough for us two," she snaps, watching her words hit her girlfriend (?).

"I keep telling myself that there's no way you're okay with this, that you're okay with spending so much time with her, away from me."

She closes the gap between them, not wanting to shout.

"And I almost convinced myself that it was _because _if Karma. That you were being a good friend, staying with her every fucking time she beckoned."

She drops her gaze on the floor, fighting to mask the pain.

"But it was your choice, too. You chose me over her, but you always _always _choose her and you don't even realize it."

When she lifts her eyes to meet hers she finds tears in them.

"So many fucking nights, I told myself that I just had to try harder, try to reach out more. But you were walking away with Karma and it felt like somewhere along the way you dropped me."

Another laugh escapes her as she reclaims her position on the couch.

"I met someone."

Amy's eyes snap back to her and she finds them panicked. She squares her shoulders, ready for defense.

"A week ago at the bar," she adds.

"Gee, thanks, that really helps, Reagan."

"Oh because _I used to be inlove with my bestfriend who I spend every waking hour with _is better?"

Amy's never been punched to the gut, but she imagines this must be how it felt like.

"Mia. She was everything like you, Shrimps," Reagan continues, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"Smart, happy, gorgeous. Only difference is, she was there."

Amy walks to her then, drops to the other side of the couch facing her girlfriend (?).

They sit like that for a while, the weight of their words starting to catch up on them.

"I'm slowly learning that some people are not good for me, no matter how much I love them."

She hears Amy sob at that as the blonde moves closer.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I don't know. I thought.." She shakes her head, not even sure how to finish her sentence. She drops her head on the older girl's shoulder.

It came crashing down on her and she was so stupid she didn't even notice the gaping cracks.

She used to think it was okay, always justifying her actions by convincing herself that Reagan would understand.

And she did, she knows that.

What she never thought to consider was that Reagan needed her, too. Like the selfish, self entitled little brat that she is, she forgot that relationships aren't a one-way thing.

"It's been close to two weeks when I last saw you and we live in Texas. I didn't think that was even physically possible."

Reagan wraps her hands around the other girl's elbows, pushing her back so she can look at her eyes.

"Maybe you are happy, Amy. Just not with me."

"For so many nights, I had to rack my brain for what else I should do, what I could have possibly done, but Amy there's no space for me in your life right now and I'm done fighting for something I thought I had."

There's a finality in her words that scares Amy, like she's truly screwed things over before they had a chance to begin.

"Mia told me I don't deserve this, that I don't deserve you."

"I think she might have me convinced," she says, looking straight into the blonde's eyes, her guts twisting into tight knots.

She knows there's no way this is going to end well.

But fuck it.

This wasn't supposed to end.

* * *

**A/N: My first Reamy Fic, go easy on me :) I'm thinking of doing another chapter but it's a oneshot for now. What do you think? Leave me that review please? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This is frustratingly short and I didn't notice that the first one was surprisingly long. That was prolly coz I wasn't planning on doing another chapter. But because you guys have been awesome with all your reviews, I decided to go on. **

**I have to establish the fact that this is indeed a Reamy piece. You guys don't have to worry about that. But with this story, I'm hoping to create a journey where they work towards a happy, healthy relationship so, realistically, there are problems along the way. I want to explore the and address the different issues f/f relationships have to deal with. (That's probably too ambitious but a girl can dream, yes?)**

**Just stick with me and send me anything you want to see. I will be needing a load of them. **

Again, I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. Sorry.

* * *

Somehow, they end up in bed, a loaded silence hanging above their heads like an unspoken ultimatum.

Reagan has fallen asleep, tear tracks still evident on the rise of her cheeks.

Amy is on her side, wishing so desperately that she could just take the last few hours back. Or maybe the last two months.

The older girl's words hit her like a mighty slap in the face, the pain in Reagan's eyes emblazoned in the forefront of her brain, making her breath hitch every time she remembers.

_I don't deserve you. _

In so many ways, she knows this is true.

Reagan is every bit of the girlfriend she's hoped to have - sensitive and understanding.

She never asked, and so Amy forgot to give.

Amy scoots closer, resting her chin on her girlfriend's shoulder and wrapping both of her hands around one of hers.

She has no idea how relationships work, being that her parents were never the best examples and her friendship with Karma has always been on top of her priorities, mainly because it's the one sure thing she's always had in her life.

Karma always came first. It was a given. It was an established rule.

She just never thought to question it.

Even when they were faking, it was all about Karma - the popularity, the boy, the sex. All those things Amy couldn't care less about, but because it seemed to mean a great fucking deal to her best friend, she went with it.

For a while she knew it was because she loved her, but now that she knows she's gotten over that particularly hurtful emotion, she can't understand why she didn't think to consider Reagan in all this mess.

She's surprised when she feels a lone tear escape her eye because fuck that Mia.

Fuck her for saying all the right words.

Reagan doesn't deserve her.

She lets the worlds ring in her head, lets them float around the throbbing mass of her brain.

And in the sea of junk that occupies the space of her cranium, she watches Mia.

Wise, gorgeous, _always there _Mia.

She watches them in the bar where she first met Reagan, guilt pulsing in her chest when she realizes she can't even remember the last time she went to one of her girlfriend's gigs.

The blonde imagines them eating breakfast together, in the pick-up driving aimlessly around town, in this apartment.

She stops before images of them in this bed take form in her head.

Amy realizes fully well that Reagan could've very easily broken up with her. She could have very easily explored her potential relationship with Mia. She wouldn't even have noticed.

Reagan could have very easily broken her heart, but she chose to get her heart broken instead.

The tears are flowing now, her breath coming out in harsh sobs, as it dawns on her just how true Mia's words are.

She lets her eyes drop to a close, realizing how close she's brought them to an end (if she hasn't already), she finds herself wrapping her arm around her girlfriends waist, her head moving to rest on Reagan's moving chest.

Had things gone differently, her place would've been taken over by Mia - Mia's ears listening to the sounds of Reagan's heart, Mia's hair mixing with Reagan's purple strands, Mia's fingers tracing the exposed skin on Reagan's side.

Mia and Reagan. _Mia and Reagan. _

She can't remember ever feeling more scared.

* * *

She wakes up to an empty bed and for a while she forgets to breathe, thinking she ran out of luck, of time. Maybe Reagan's halfway across fuckin' Texas running off with Mia.

She springs out of the bed in less than three seconds, out of the room in the next four.

Reagan has her back to her, hands resting on the sink in the kitchen, the tension clear in the rigidness of her shoulders.

When the younger girl hears her sob, she half-runs into the kitchen and wraps her arms around her girlfriend from behind.

Their chests heave together in an almost synchronous intake of breath; Amy's arms tightening around her girlfriend, holding on for dear life.

But Reagan is stoic, face wet but unmoving. She squares her shoulders and attempts to free herself from the embrace but the blonde persists.

She whimpers a litany of _I'm sorrys _as she continues to cling to the DJs back, not even caring how stubborn and immature she must be acting.

When Reagan turns around, she looks at her.

Really looks at her.

The blonde barely recognizes the hazel irises she's come to love.

Gone is the look of adoration and reverence.

Before she thinks to name the emotion staring back, her hands fly to cup Reagan's face.

Taking a deep shaky breath in an attempt to still the tears, she touches their foreheads.

She has no idea what to say, no idea how to salvage whatever is left of their relationship. All she knows is that she's not willing to lose Reagan.

With another breath, she pulls back to look at her girlfriend's eyes, willing them to express everything she's never been able to.

"Can we try again?"

* * *

**A/N: I struggled with the pronouns here because all the characters features are girls. So if you have any suggestions on how to approach this, I'd greatly appreciate it. Also, if you have any ideas, I would be very happy to try and incorporate them into the story. :) **

**Also, thank you so much to everyone for their kind words. (Reviews make me update faster *wink wink*)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you for all your kind words. I will apologize in advance for all the pain this chapter will cause. Again, rest assured, this is a Reamy fic. We'll get there. Please don't forget to leave your review! **

**Again, no beta. Sorry. Standard Disclaimers apply. Enjoy!**

* * *

She wants to undo Amy's arms around her. She wants to leave and run far away.

She recognizes the signs and she knows how these kinds of things end.

But as she stares back at Amy's pleading face, it's her who comes undone.

When Amy leans in for a kiss, she lets her.

Even now, her heart battered and burned and barely functioning, she can't bring herself to deny Amy anything.

The younger girl's lips are firmly planted on hers. She feels them quivering against her own, feeling her girlfriend's tears run down her cheek.

It's a selfish kiss, Amy knows. A desperate move to shift the air, hoping it reminds them both of what they have, what they might lose.

A plea.

The DJ unwraps her girlfriend's arms around her, prying them off. She stops when Amy drops her forehead on her shoulder, a feeble cry of her name coming out in a whimper.

She crosses the floor, swiping at the wet tracks on her cheeks. She takes deep steadying breaths: In. Out. In. Out.

When she reaches the door to her room, she thinks to herself: _I'm not letting Karma win._

But as she pushes the door closed, her back sliding down the cold surface she feels like no matter how this goes, she's already lost.

* * *

There's a gnawing pain in her chest she wants to claw at. She wants to pry open her chest but her body refuses to do what it's told, so she sinks down onto the hard kitchen floor.

On her way here all she was thinking about was how she can finally wrap her arms around her girlfriend, how she can finally see her do that thing she does with her eyebrows again, how she can finally feel Reagan's smile against her lips.

She never thought she'd be forced to undo her hold on Reagan ever, but when the older girl pushed her away it felt like a glaring unanswer. It felt like she wanted nothing to do with her.

An unmistakable sob erupts as her chest heaves and she thinks maybe her chest as finally cracked open.

And of course, she belatedly realizes, Reagan must feel a hundred times worse.

This is when she knows she's broken her heart for sure.

She used to ask herself why people walk away from each other.

_Why do people walk away from the people they claim to love?_

Right now, as her tears pool around where her cheek touches the unforgiving tile, she thinks she understands.

People walk away not because they're selfish.

They walk away because it hurts to watch the person you love crumble because of your words, your choices.

The walk away because it hurts to watch them cry knowing that it's you they're bleeding for

That's why people walk away.

* * *

She hears the bedroom door open and she bolts upright, eyes burning red.

Amy watches her make her way, eyes boring straight to hers.

She watches her take a deep, shaky breath, eyes dropping as she sits down across from her.

Their legs are brushing and her heart is pounding in her ears, her earlier question battling with the erratic thumping in her chest.

_Can we try again?_

Reagan's hands reach out to her face, thumbing her wet cheeks.

Amy can't help but lean into her touch, her own hands instinctively holding them in place.

"I'm sorry," Reagan says looking straight into her irises.

She has no idea what she's apologizing for, but she feels like she should.

Across from her, she watches Amy's sigh of relief as the blonde stares back.

The young girl wastes no time wrapping her in a tight embrace, their knees making it awkward but no less sincere.

"My papa used to force me and my brother to do this when we would fight," Reagan says, linking her hands behind Amy's back.

"He would ask us to sit," she continues, pulling back a little to make eye contact.

"Touching but not seeing each other's face."

She surprises them both when she leans in, planting a kiss on her girlfriend's closed eyes.

When the younger girl opens her lids, she has a sad smile on her face.

Reagan moves behind Amy, shifting so that her back is against the kitchen counter, pulling Amy against her chest where the girl visibly melts.

They stay like that for a while, content to finally see the end of their first, real, horrible fight.

Reagan's arms are around her waist, fingers trailing along the warm skin on her side.

"I'm sorry," Amy begins. She knows she has entire list of things to apologize for but she struggling to find the words.

She shifts a little to the side so she can see Reagan.

She plants a kiss on her girlfriend's jaw and burrows into the crook of her neck, their hands linked on her stomach.

"You know I love you, right?," Reagan whispers to her hair, tears once again threatening to spill.

She says it because she wants Amy to know where she stands. She wants her to understand she's in this a hundred percent.

But Amy's heart breaks when she hears it. This isn't how it's supposed to sound.

It's not supposed to sound like her heart is breaking when she says those words but it does.

It sounds like a resignation to her fate, like a plea of her own.

At that, Amy's heart breaks even more.

Here is an amazing woman declaring her love after she's beaten her heart into a throbbing pulp.

She doesn't know how to make things better.

But damn her if she doesn't try.

Her hand pulls away to touch Reagan's cheek, holding the older girl's head in place as she plants another kiss to her neck.

"I love you, too, Ray," she replies, smiling inspite of her tears.

"I'm sorry."

It's all her repentance and regret and pain rolled in two curt syllables.

When she feels Reagan pull her tighter against her chest, hand finding her favorite spot by her hip, she knows she's already forgiven.

It scares her to no end, the amount of trust Reagan has on her.

It's responsibility.

It's power: to lie, to betray. _To hurt. _

"I know you and Karma have a past, she's your best friend. I don't want to compete with that. _Please don't make me compete with that." _

Amy shakes her head still burrowed deep into the DJ's chest. Another feeble _sorry _escapes.

"I'm sorry about Mia."

Amy waits for her to continue, her hands wrapping tight around Reagan's arm.

"I missed you so much and she was there but I swear.." her voice is shaking now, a little pitched.

"Hey" the blonde interrupts.

"I know," she says, stroking her girlfriend's arm up and down trying to reassure her.

She's never once doubted Reagan. Not even after she told her about Mia.

It hits her then.

That she's so secure in Reagan's love that she doesn't even consider cheating a possibility for her.

She's so certain that Reagan will never hurt her.

Not even when she's bled her heart out several times and squeezed it tight for good measure.

She wants that, too - for the older girl to know she's worthy of her trust, that she'll never do anything to compromise what they have, that she'll never keep anything from her.

So in that moment she knows she has to tell her.

Even though she knows this may very well be the one that ultimately drives them apart.

"I slept with Liam."

In the dead silence that follows, she knows she has reason to be scared.

But she's counting on Reagan to see that this isn't her trying to break them apart.

This is her baring her soul so they can finally let go of their aching past.

Reagan shifts ever so slightly behind her and walks calmly to the door.

She should have known it was a preamble for the storm.

She follows her girlfriend to where she stood, eyes searching.

But Reagan's head is turned down, eyes trained on her bare feet.

She's never demanded anything from Amy. Not once.

When she asks her out to dates, she phrases her questions so that it's always Amy's prerogative. Never making it sound like a direct request but an option.

_If you want, we can have lunch together._

_I drive you there, if you want._

So when she does ask for something, it feels like boiling water in it's fiery.

"I _want_ you to leave, please."

And that is how their fragile peace gets undone.

She watches Reagan's emotions swim in her eyes.

An unmistakable surge of pain flooding her chest_. _

This is why people walk away from people they love.

Because you hurt them again and again.

And you know it's no longer you who can make it better.

* * *

**AN: Let me know how you liked this one. I'm probably going to lose some readers because of the angst and the drama, but in my honest opinion they need this. Don't hate too much. :) Leave me a review please. (They make me update faster. *wink*)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm so happy I'm not the only one who like the angst! I swear we're moving to much lighter territory soon. I just needed to get this out. **

**No beta. Standard disclaimers apply. Review!**

* * *

She says it clear as day, the quake and uncertainty so evident in her voice not a minute before gone like it never was. No hint of doubt, no trace of hesitation.

_I want you to leave, _please.

Reagan swears like a truck driver, her sentences peppered with obscenities she deems necessary. It would have made this feel a little less bothersome had she screamed bloody murder when she said the words.

It would have showed strength and passion.

It would have meant that this was a fight.

But as Amy looks at her girlfriend, head cast down and shoulders slumped, she realizes the fight is over.

Now there's only loss. Defeat.

_Resignation._

* * *

She takes a tentative step to close the gaping distance between them, relieved when the other girl makes no move to back away.

"Reagan," she breathes, testing the waters. Her arms stretch out in an attempt to initiate contact, hoping to contain their growing worries, but the DJ shakes her head still down cast.

Amy bends her arms in a placating gesture, sighing. She stays where she is, a good arms length away, but beckons to her girl friend some more.

"Reagan, please." Her tone is imploring, begging, even. There is an ominous silence that swarms over them that she wants so much to break, but she knows that the next words she let roll off her tongue will decide whether or not she gets another chance.

When the other girl doesn't respond, she takes a tiny step forward, and touches a tentative finger to the curve of the brunette's cheek.

"Tell me what you want me to do," she sobs, a stubborn tear traveling down the side of her face.

It draws Reagan's chin up, giving the other girl a chance to finally look into her eyes.

What she sees is an empty orb of dark brown she's never known. It's jarring indifference reflected on her face.

Reagan has always been an easy book to read.

Now as she stares into her blank eyes, she's unsure if this is real. If this is how she is, how's she's made her to be. Or if this is how she covers herself up when she's weary and mangled and done.

She doesn't want either.

The older girl wraps her fingers gently at Amy's hand floating by her cheek and pushes it softly away.

Finally closing the remaining distance between their bodies, Reagan takes a deep breath and drops her lids closed.

A beat passes and she brings them open.

"I want you to leave, Amy." Her voice is devoid of any emotion, her hands already gripping the knob.

When the white wooden door closes behind her with a soft click, the blinding sun just beginning to set, she finally lets the dam break with a rasping heave.

* * *

When she replays the scene in her head again and again, it's Reagan's disappointment that haunts her most.

Like this is the last thing she's expected from her, because really, this is without a doubt the worst thing she's ever done.

More than choosing to sleep with Liam for revenge. More than actively lying to Karma.

Because this right here, this is civilian casualty. Reagan had nothing to do with this mangled mess of deception and desperation.

Reagan had no part in this mess she made. Reagan was the one she wanted to protect the most.

She had hoped she could save Reagan from her world of blatant lying and malice, but she should have known better.

In the end, it was Reagan who suffered the fall.

* * *

It takes a great fucking deal of control not to smash her skull to the wall.

She finally let the tears fall and her vision is blurry from the ones that are yet to be cried.

There's an undying pounding in her chest that doesn't seem to go away as she pulls away from her door. It carries over to her ears, a steady rhythm of pain drumming on the sides of her head.

She forgoes all attempts at regaining composure, feeling the strain of keeping her hurt bottled in for so long taking its toll.

The older girl takes a sweeping glance over her apartment, searching for something to occupy her mind with.

But she's done her laundry, folder her clothes, tidied the kitchen and scrubbed the floor all in the days her girlfiend seemingly forgot about her.

So she grabs a random hoodie from her rack, takes a brief glance at her reflection in the mirror, and heads for the door.

* * *

Sitting by the steps to her apartment is Amy, slouching over and playing with the laces of her shoes.

Reagan walks decisively toward her turned figure, strides fast and purposeful.

When she reaches her girlfriend, she scoffs.

"So generous of you to give me eight minutes to think and ten meters of space."

She shakes her head adding, "Fucking unbelievable."

Amy begins to rise, mouth opening and closing, but no words come out.

"You know what the thing is, Amy?

"You tell me all these big declarations and then within the next two minutes you go and do the exact opposite.

"_Oh. I love you, Reagan. Let me break your heart by telling you I slept with Liam fucking Booker._

"_I won't let Karma get in the way but I will spend every waking hour with her and check on you every five days._"

It's a barrage of splintering arrows she doesn't expect and it's all aimed at her heart.

Reagan takes a deliberate step forward.

"And what sucks is that in my head, I actually believe every fucking word out of your precious little mouth.

"And every time you fuck up I shrug it off and tell myself, it's okay.

"I'm waiting for you to turn around and realize _oh look, I'm actually doing the exact opposite of what I promised barely five minutes ago. Maybe I should change that_.

"I'm waiting for you to prove me right. That I'm right to trust you. That I'm right to dive head long into this when every single fucking sign is telling me to run."

With another shake of her head she falls to the ground, occupying the space beside where Amy used to sit.

"I'm justifying all your shit to myself Amy. Every time you don't send me a single message in a day and I feel like crap I tell myself _Well, she has school, she has finals, she has fucking things."_

Reagan's legs are folded in front of her, pulled close to her chest.

"Every time you blow me off and I find your and Karma's brilliant smiles plastered on the internet I tell myself _Well, they're best friends. It's good she's not stressed. Amy warned me about this and I agreed to it." _

"Even though I'm alone in my bed and I haven't heard your voice and it fuckin rips me apart," she whispers, tears once again pooling in her eyes.

It's the ragged breathing that brings Amy close, wanting to wrap her girlfriend in her arms and hide her away.

She shudders when it hits her that maybe it's her Reagan has to be hidden away from.

"How you can live so a-okay without seeing me for days at a time baffles me," Reagan starts again, looking straight at the blonde.

"Maybe this isn't really what you want. I dunno," she moves to rise, pushing herself off the ground.

"But let me tell you this isn't what I want either. So before we start hating each other?," she continues.

"Because to be honest I'm getting pretty close," she laughs: detached, unfeeling. _Unfamiliar. _

"Let's just quit it already, alright?," she deadpans, turning around and walking away.

"Let's give up. I'm done. I'm tired."

At that Amy springs in disagreement. "How could you say that?," she follows.

Reagan's head whips so fast Amy has to blink.

"How could _I _say that?" She lets out another emotionless laugh, her purple highlights swaying as she shakes her head in disbelief.

"You know how it feels like to have to lie to yourself just so you don't have to drive yourself crazy with all the scenarios forming in your head? Just so you don't fucking ram your car to a tree because you're shaking with jealousy but you can't because _she's your fucking best friend._

"You know what it feels like to be proven time and time again that you are a second thought.

"Let me tell you, Amy. This?," she gestures wildly at the space between them.

"This is not what I signed up for. This is not what I agreed to.

"I agreed to try with Karma. I agreed to try with you. But fuck Amy. It's you who isn't even trying," she throws her arms in the air and begins walking back to the blonde.

When she starts again, it's barely a whisper.

"I hate that you're so sure with me. That I'm so sure with us. I can tell, Amy. You can't see it but I've been here before. I've seen this before."

Amy watches the tears once again stain Reagan's face for the third time in less than a day.

"You're not scared to lose me because you're so sure I'm not letting go. And what's worse is that its true. It's so fucked up but its true."

Amy is surprised to feel her hands on either side of her arms, eyes boring holes into hers.

"I'm not letting you go but fuck, Amy. You're not giving me a reason to stay."

Reagan is spent, exhausted.

She drops her forehead on Amy's shoulder blades, eyes shut tight, willing the tears to stop.

But the younger girl doesn't move, afraid of how it will affect their sudden truce,

"When I went in my room earlier, my head was a mess and I was so angry and hurt and just sad.

"I asked myself, _Why am I still doing this?_

"Amy, I'm running out of reasons."

She feels tears on the skin of her chest and it a burning reminder of how horrible a person she is.

Reagan pulls back now once again meeting her girlfriend's eyes.

"That's why I'm giving up."

She runs resolutely to her pickup truck, Amy dragging herself behind her.

As she shuts the door, her girlfriend reaches her side, mouth still agape and unbelieving.

The blonde has no clue how to fix this. It seems that her words have a way of making things worse.

She racks her brain for any useful thing, a single ammunition she can use.

"Baby, I love you."

Another blunder, another weak attempt to make things right, but she has nothing else but her love to fight for. Nothing else to hold on to.

Reagan answers with a sad smile, leaning out her window for a lingering kiss.

"You know how this feels?," she breathes, eyes closed and lips moving against Amy.

"For your sake, I hope you never have to find out."

And with that she drives off.

* * *

**AAN: I know. Amy should have at least gotten a word in, but I have no idea what she could've said that would've helped besides ****_Iloveyou. _**

**As mentioned earlier, we'll finally be able to move on with less angst in the next chapter (I hope). Be patient with me. Again, thank you so much for your reviews! **

**AAAN: My mind is going numb from all the sitting around so if you guys have stories that need beta or if you have some prompts. Send them in! I will ****_try _****to write them. XO**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Definitely lighter than the previous chapters. Finally happy reamy. I noticed that this chapter may actually make for a good ending. What do you guys think? **

**All mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy!**

* * *

Of course.

_Of fvcking course. _

Of course she hasn't spoken to her girlfriend in three days.

Of course Karma decides to blow this off as a petty argument.

Of course this has to happen when finals are finally over and she has all the time in the world.

All the time she hoped to spend making out in Reagan's truck or in her apartment or anywhere really.

Instead, here she is, watching her eighth documentary for the day.

She knows she has to wait it out. That Reagan's the type who needs to take a little some time in a fight. So even though she's aching to smooth things out with her girlfriend, she patiently gives her the space she needs.

Pulling out her phone from the nightstand, she types out her usual good night message and hits send. Sighing, the blonde scrolls up to her still unanswered messages, She's only allowed herself two messages a day: one in the morning to wish her girlfriend a good day, and another before bed mostly because that's when she drowns herself to think of the older girl.

Tonight it's _Been thinking about you all day. I miss you._

She decides to pull up pictures of them on her phone, noticing that she has to scroll down a lot more than she expected to get to it.

She stares at a particular picture she took the night they went to Communal, a stubborn smile making its way to her lips.

Reagan picks her up a little early, smiling bashfully when she finds her truck outside their house a full hour earlier than expected. Later that night, the older girl will admit she was there early to make sure Amy wouldn't bail.

Too early for their reservation, they decide to while away their time at a park a few blocks from the restaurant.

They're laughing at Reagan's surprisingly off-tune rendition of _Shake It Off_ when they finally pull up at the restaurant, realizing it would be wiser to save themselves parking space and walk to the park.

They make their way hand and hand - Reagan practically dragging her along with excitement, the wind a welcome relief against their skin,

Amy was never one for constant documentation like Karma. She'd much rather stare.

Which is exactly what she's doing now, as they're bouncing up and down in the seesaw.

She decides to play and old trick and keep her girlfriend propped high on the other end of the bar, laughing as she squints her almond eyes at her antics.

"Amyyyyyyy", the DJ whines, raising one perfectly shaped brow, when she sees her pull out her phone and aim it at her.

She crosses her arms in front of her and sticks out her tongue just as the image is captured, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Amy finally brings her to the ground with a hearty laugh when the older girl threatens not to see her again, even though they both know it was an empty threat.

They take turns pushing each other on the swings, Amy grinning toothily when Reagan calls her out playfully: "Quit staring at my ass, Amy. There are kids around!"

She sets the photo as lock screen and stares longingly at her girlfriend's smile. She realizes she hasn't seen it in a while.

* * *

For the most part, Reagan has kept herself busy with work, picking up more gigs than she knows she should.

Mia becomes a regular in the bar where she plays every night, joining her up in her tower intermittently. They both know what they're doing, and they're both content to stay in their own version of limbo.

Every night before she leaves, Mia leaves a chaste kiss on her cheek and waves goodbye with a sad smile.

Tonight, though, she finds herself out of work earlier than she would've liked so she decides to drive home and indulge in some ice cream and several episodes of _Friends. _

Propping her laptop on her knees, she begins the marathon which, she belatedly realizes, is the worst idea since it only seems to highlight the emptiness of her apartment.

Hitting the spacebar to pause another Thanksgiving episode, she hears her phone ding with another text from Amy.

She hates this.

She hates the there's still that lingering feeling of hurt burrowed in the recesses of her chest, hates that she still sees her at the back of her lids as she begs for sleep.

But if she's being entirely honest, the blonde has thankfully been respectful of her space, keeping her distance and giving her all the time she needs to think.

Slowly, she feels the pain dwindle into some sort of numbness. Tonight, she allows her resolve to falter as her fingers hover over the keys for a moment before she finally gives in and taps out her reply. _I miss you, too._

* * *

The lingering smell of cigarettes that always seems to hover over the bar welcomes her as she makes her way inside. She's met with thumping bodies in various states of inebriation as she makes her way across the floor, hoping to find a spot where she can see her girlfriend up in her tower without necessarily getting seen.

She absentmindedly bobs her head to the music as she claims a corner, arguing with herself about whether she should let her presence be known.

Before she gets to decide, she's pulled out of her thoughts, "Amy?"

She lifts her head and finds a gorgeous brunette standing in front of her, a tentative smile on her face.

_Mia. _

For a moment, her brain is flooded with images of Mia and Reagan doing _stuff _and she feels herself tense up. The other girl must have noticed her pained expression so she offers a placating hand for a shake. "Mia."

She takes it involuntarily, still not quite recovered from the not quite appropriate disparage of scenarios her brain decided to present her with.

"Can we talk?," she adds, tipping her head and motioning for the door. They make their way to the back entrance and slip outside silently.

Settling her back against the wall, Mia pulls out a cigarette and begins to light, surprising Amy when she asks "Do you mind?"

It's a chilly night out and she's thankful she opted to pull on a sweater over her sleeveless top.

With a final puff of smoke, Mia flicks her stub and shifts to face her.

"You know, they keep mistaking me for you," she begins, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"Everyone around here knows you from all of Reagan's little stories," she says with a little smile, casting her eyes on the ground.

"She's up in her tower eighty percent of the time but somehow, she has enough to spare to tell them all about you."

Amy is staring, she knows, but she can't help it. Mia is an actual angel, her little black dress hugging her body in all the right places, her eyes big and blue and bare.

She has nothing on this girl but Reagan still chose her. It's stupid,

But god is she thankful.

"It's so tempting to just nod along and pretend I'm you but every time she mentions your name I watch her face brighten and her lips turn up like magic.

"It hurts because it's so unbelievable unfair, because you're throwing away something that I'm begging for and you don't even see it," she pulls out another stick but doesn't light it.

"Every time she mentions your name she lights up, and then I think she remembers Karma, and she visibly dims and it's unfair because she doesn't deserve that.

"It's unfair because I'm here and I can wipe all of that away but she wouldn't let me."

Mia turns to her then, arms folding across her chest. "If it were up to me, I'd tell you to give her up," she says, her eyes never leaving Amy's.

"Even though there's a big chance that you'll fuck this up even more, I care for her enough to know that even though I can give her everything you can't, I know she's still gonna be searching for your blue eyes, I know her arms are aching to hold you. I care for her enough to tell you to man the fuck up."

She watches the French girl swipe at the moisture in her eyes, and she thinks, if the tables were turned, she doesn't think she'll be as generous as Mia has. Because just the thought of someone else having Reagan, kissing Reagan, holding Reagan…

"The night you fought, Reagan's eyes were red and puffed and I was so mad at you. How can you not see what you have?", she says, a humorless chuckle leaving her lips.

"That night, when I asked her what was wrong, she told me about Karma. She told me that you can either be friends with someone or in love with them - never both. I've been pretty clear which one she is to me, it's time for you to make that choice with Karma."

In the silence that follows, she feels her eyes fill up as she realizes how true Reagan's words were. Mia is everything she's always wanted. Mia is someone she could very easily pack up her bags and leave town for.

But she stayed.

She's staying.

For her.

* * *

They make their way back inside in relative silence, stopping right under the ladder leading up to the girl they're both crazy about.

She surprises herself when she starts, "You know what got me to get out of bed to come?"

Without waiting for a reply she continues, "Every night since the fight I give her space because I knew she needed to think. And then finally, last night I thought: _What's she gotta think about? _I love her. "

Shaking her head, Mia says, "Honey, you have a funny way of showing it."

Amy watches her saunter away before she turns around and clambers up the now unfamiliar ladder.

It hits her when she's finally up on the tower, how much she's missed her girlfriend.

Her back is to her and her hair cascading down the length of her back.

Sensing her presence, Reagan turns, and smiles.

And that's all the invitation she needs before envelopes her in a tight hug, her lips pressed to the side of her neck.

The tears flow down her cheeks and she lets them because she's incredibly lucky and unbelievably stupid.

When she pulls back, Reagan immediately thumbs her cheeks, "Hey, we've done enough crying for a while."

"Mia's fucking gorgeous!," she blurts laughing through her tears.

Reagan pulls her to the couch in the back of the tower and they settle across from each other, hands still linked and legs tucked under.

The younger girl swipes at her tears and takes a deep breath before starting, "People say it's the greatest thing to fall in love with your bestfriend, and when I was hung up on Karma, that's what I kept going back to. I hung on to that, that maybe I just need to wait for her to realize what we could have is great. In my head, it made so much sense, to spend the rest of my life with the person I'd already spent most of it with. But I know now that what I have with you is better. Karma was there for everything, she didn't have to do much because she was there. But now I have someone who's paying attention to all the things I'd wished Karma payed attention to. I have someone whom I don't need to wait for. I finally have everything, and I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

"You got all that from seeing Mia?," Reagan jokes, her jaw hurting from all the smiling.

Amy cups her girlfriend's face and looks straight into her eyes, "You're unbelievable."

"Whatever happened before: all the things we said and the things we didn't do, it's not enough to just let this," she plants a kiss on her mouth and smiles before pulling away, "die."

Amy pulls wraps her arm around Reagan's neck, tears once again blurring her eyes.

"I was so sure we were over. Thank you for giving me another chance," she says into the shell of her ear, her breath cooling her skin.

The DJ pulls back, her hands playing with the hair at the back of her neck.

"There is no scenario where we will just be_ over_. Remember that. "

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I haven't been getting as many reviews lately so I might just end this here. Which sucks, I know. Let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas at all, tell me.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: SURPRISE! I decided to go on with this one because I have so many other things I want to write. And with Faking It's Season 2B promo, we're prolly gonna need all the Reamy we can get.**

**Also, I did something. I wrote smut, I think. Not quite, smut _smut _I'd say, but still. Like ranging from sloppy kisses to Joey Tribbiani's girl on girl fantasies, I'd say this is safely bordering on 2nd base. This is my first attempt so go easy on me. As always, reviews make me happy. (And I've been on the rocks lately so please send me some.) Thanks again for reading!**

**Still no beta. Sorry. Standard Disclaimers apply.**

* * *

It's been a while since she felt this kind of happiness - unbidden, unadulterated, absolute. She feels herself sigh, her head burrowing deeper into her girlfriend's neck, filling her lungs with her scent: cigarettes and lilies. Her favorite.

Reagan's arms are wrapped tight around her back, her thumb reacquainting with the exposed skin on her side. It feels a lot like waking up from a nightmare: no more monsters with fiery hair pulling her away from Reagan's arms, no more insurmountable glass walls separating them as the brunette is engulfed by an ominous fog on the other side.

She's flooded with relief that awakens all the butterflies that have fallen stiff and unmoving on her gut, finally fluttering their fragile wings, brushing them across her ribs, hitching her breath.

A lone tear trails it's way down her cheek and onto her girlfriend's spine, another hitch escaping her lips. For once, it doesn't come out of crippling sadness. It's one that marks the end of the fight. One that promises better days.

"Hey," Reagan starts, her voice soft and soothing, hand travelling to her arms and pushing her back,

It's a welcome reprieve to have someone else's voice in her head, in her general vicinity, really. After spending sleepless nights and endless waking hours consoling herself. She revels in it, the gentle cadence hanging in the air like a warm cotton blanket.

Reagan pulls back, worried eyes surveying her face.

Her fingers continue to trail the contour of her frame, up the angle of her shoulders to the length of her neck and finally settling on the sides of her face, begging her eyes to meet her hazel ones. Amy leans in to the touch as her eyelids drop to a close, an unmistakable shiver tingling in her spine and breaking out as goosebumps on her skin.

"Shrimps," she adds, stroking the rise of her cheek.

She smiles as she opens her eyes, planting a kiss on her girlfriends palm. "Hey."

"Look at me," the older girl offers, her eyes shining with happiness even in the dim of the bar.

"We're okay, a'right?," she says with a convincing bob of her head, hands playing with the hairs on Amy's neck.

"We have a lot of talking to do but we're going to be okay," she says finally, smiling and leaning forward to plant a kiss on the curve of her brow.

She pulls them off the couch and to her table, her arms resting flatly on her hip. She pushes up some sliders and teases her cheek with her nose while whispering "I could definitely care for a margarita."

Amy replies with a playful bite to her bare shoulder and saunters away to grab their drinks.

* * *

The bartender a blonde male whose entire left arm is covered in a multitude of tattoos. His smile is uncharacteristically shy as she waits for her order, claiming a stool that emptied just as she arrived.

Leaning a little to her left trying to catch the baristas swift hands, she notices the tip bowl and drops a few dollars in, noting the incredulous amount of bills mounting on the base.

"Impressive. huh?," the barista starts, tipping his head to gesture to the bowl in question.

"It's mostly the DJ, really," he adds bashfully. "Sometimes, it seems like the male population thinks it's a raffle. _The more entries you send, the more chances of winning."_

His laugh is a nervous staccato, eyes going up to the tower where Reagan continues to bob her head to the music. They catch eyes and she waves at them both.

Turning back to the bar, she finds the bartender blushing. It's barely noticeable under his burly facial hair, seemingly out of place in his manly build.

_Of course, the bartender likes her girlfriend! What's not to like? _

To her right, she finds a group of college boys waving up at her, their collective alcohol consumption probably illegal, but their identification passes the fleeting scrutiny of the guy behind the bar so they continue to tip back shots of blazing liquids.

They're huddled together under the lone source of actual, useful light in the establishment, scribbling digits onto scraps of paper.

It's not until some of them pop back out with a drunken hand that she realizes that majority of the contents of the bowl are paper and not money.

"I send up far too many drink to her, and not just from guys! She'd probably be an alcoholic if she drank them all," he continues, finishing up her orders.

With the bartender, she knew it was just a little crush. Nothing serious. Nothing to worry about.

But the realization sits heavy and bitter in her gut. She wonders how many guys her girlfriend has to turn down every night, how many roaming hands she's had to swat away.

It had always been an increasingly exasperating task, driving away inebriated perverts wherever she went. Especially ones that can't seem to take a hint, ones that puff their chest out and tilt their chins up like the world owes them shit, like a wink and a hand up your ass somehow makes them more likable.

College jocks and jerks and just the general male population tend to overrate themselves especially after several beers, hitting on anything that moves and demanding reception. She could only begin to imagine the amount of catcalls her girl must endure, the level of objectivity aimed at her every night.

It only occurs to her that Reagan must have dealt with this ever since starting to DJ at clubs, and she feels the raw anger flare up inside her like wildfire.

She understands now why she acted the way she did during the pageant.

_Fucking testosterone fueled, heads in their dicks, male population. _

"She's tough. She handles herself very well," he adds to her silence, giving a final swipe at their glasses.

"She has a girlfriend, though. Some high school chick she met. She's probably too young for me anyway." He shrugs and then blushes an even deeper shade of crimson, shocked at his own admission.

"At least, none of us gets her tonight, right?," he says, a sad smile ghosting over his lips, pushing the drinks toward her.

There's an insatiable urge to clarify that last statement, albeit a little unnecessary in the general scheme of things, but she proceeds anyway, feeling the need to mark her territory.

Sticking her hand out for a shake she says, "I'm Amy, by the way." Accompanying her introduction with a saccharine smile, too wide and too glaring to be genuine.

A flash of recognition graces his face, an unsure "Jason" making its way from his lips.

She turns then, giving her hips an extra sway as she crosses the floor and climbs the tower.

_Let's see about that, Jason._

* * *

She walks over to Reagan, a new found hunger lingering in her core. She puts the drinks down to the side table and wraps her arms around her girlfriend, peppering the back of her neck with the ghost of kisses.

A smile pulls on her lips when she feels the DJ shiver against her chest, tipping her head back to plant sloppy kiss on the underside of her jaw.

"Hmmm. Jason got you in a good mood, huh?," she says, as she continues to mix her tracks, body thumping against hers in a very encouraging rhythm,

Amy's arms skirt around the hem of her skin tight leather pants, teasing the exposed skin with feather light touches of her fingers.

"You didn't tell me you're a popular tease in this area?"

"Ha." Her chuckle vibrates against her chest, effectively eliminated the minuscule gap between their bodies.

"I'm very much liking this possessive display." she says with a laugh. Amy can see the goosebumps she's successfully summoned with her ministrations, her palms now disappearing under her girlfriend's shirt.

She stops her exploration then, holding the jut of her hips in her hands, pulling so that they were connected head to toe.

"Do you not have a break or something?" She's getting impatient now, needing to show the rest of the world (or the crowd down below) that Reagan was taken, to cement the idea in their heads. If only to stop them from hitting on her and sending her drinking or leaving her numbers.

Although, really, this is for her as much as it is for the audience constantly gawking at her girlfriend. She wants this show branded in their brains so they know to back off.

"You're pretty much growling in my ear. Calm you tits, man." Reagan says with another laugh, twisting the dials down and playing a prerecorded mix.

Turning in the blonde's embrace, she allows her fingers to travel languidly up Amy's arms, making her index and ring finger walk along her collar bones like gangly legs and then proceeding to wrap her arms around her girlfriend's neck, pulling her in but halting her advances within a breath's width from Amy's anticipating lips.

"Mine," that, Reagan's positive, is the closest thing to a growl, a human can manage.

The blonde is on her before she even takes a breath she'll surely need, devouring her mouth like a savaged beast, slowly lapping her tongue on the blonde's upper lip.

Reagan is all too happy with this development, taking advantage of the momentary freedom of her lips to inhale a sharp, shaky breath. She buries her hand in Amy's hair, the other one planted firmly behind her neck, keeping her in place.

Before long Amy is sucking on her pulse point, eliciting an inviting moan from Reagan's lips slowly venturing into dangerous territory, marking exposed skin above her shirt. She can feel Amy's heartbeat from where her lips continue to meet skin, not unlike her own.

The DJ slips her hand down into the other girl's back pockets, pulling their hips even closer. Amy registers a few catcalls, and several howls of approval, but she's too hot to care. Too deep inside Reagan's mouth to bother with propriety and decency.

_This is a bar. This isn't the first heated makeout this crowd has witnessed, _she tells herself.

Amy pushes her hands further up her girlfriend's shirt, smiling against her lips when she earns another audible hitch.

"Shrimps," Reagan calls, bidding her to rejoin the conscious world, but she refuses to be pulled back, stubbornly sucking on another patch of skin on the brunette's throat.

Reagan allows her several seconds of tongue exploration before finally pulling back, pecking her frowning eyebrows with a chuckle.

"Hey, now. You're going to get me arrested for harassment." She rearranges the parts of Amy's clothing that have gone askew and runs her hands through blonde hair gone awry.

Biting her chin jokingly, she adds before turning, "If we're lucky and no one goes to jail tonight, I'll show you how much of a tease I really am."

* * *

**I know this one's short, sorry. What did you think? Let me know!**

**Show of hands for those who want to see actual smut!**


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